Stuck on You
by Scribbler
Summary: Haga's at the end of his rope and considering just turning it into a noose to save time and effort. But maybe an encounter in a smoothie bar is his key back to self-esteem. Hey, stranger things have happened right? Not MUCH stranger, mind ... Haga/Shizuka
1. Stuck on You

**Disclaimer****:** Incontestably not mine.

**A/N****:** Yet another one from _As Deep as the Sky_ that got out of hand (I'm getting a lot of mileage out of these). The idea of that ficlet collection is you put your music play-list on random and have to write a fanfic based on whatever song pops up, but you only have the duration of that song in which to write it. Since I didn't follow the rules and spent far longer than just three minutes on this one, it gets its own space to breathe.

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_**Stuck on You**_

© Scribbler, September 2008.

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Then in a frozen bar  
I claimed I didn't care for you  
But your verse got trapped inside my head  
Over and over again

-- From** Stuck on You **by Paramore

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Haga was at the end of his rope and considering just turning it into a noose to save time and effort. Defeated by everyone and their kid brother, dumped on by the media, and forgotten by the world despite his duelling credentials, he had sunk into a melancholy usually reserved for middle-aged divorced men and bitter women who frequented seedy bars. Since Haga wasn't old enough to drink, he drowned his sorrows in smoothies at the mall, where he tried to forget all the crappy things that'd happened to him and convince people he really was the Japanese Duel Monsters Champion.

"Nah," people would reply, either laughing or scorning him. "That's Yuugi Mutou."

To which Haga would gnash his teeth and spit that Yuugi _freaking_ Mutou had never been crowned Japanese Champion. _World _Champion, yes. And Champion of Battle City. And the Kaiba Corp Grand Prix … look, the point was he'd won a lot of stuff, but he hadn't even qualified for the Japanese Tournament. That was Haga's crowning glory.

"Whatever, dude."

It was the most frustrating answer of them all, because it implied either disbelief ("I _am_ Japanese Champion, you ignorant cretins!") or indifference ("Listen to me when I'm talking to you!"), as though Haga's achievements were nothing compared to all that Yuugi Mutou had done. And if it wasn't Yuugi Mutou they brought up, it was Seto Kaiba, or Katsuya Jounouchi, or Leon Von Schroeder, or any of the other recent high-flying media darlings.

But never Insector Haga. He was the country's representative, and he'd earned his title fair and square, but apparently national pride didn't extend to _him_.

_They couldn't have … nah. No way. Nobody was in America except Ryuzaki and Mutou's crowd, and none of them would squeal on what happened_.

Still, Haga stared miserably into his strawberry and maple smoothie and wondered whether this was that karma thing so many people bleated about. Sure, he'd done some stuff he wasn't proud of, and yeah, so he'd gotten down on his knees and begged to join Doma, but that was only because he'd been driven to it. He got no respect, even when he didn't cheat, and was only after what he was owed. Could anybody blame a guy for bending the rules a little to make sure he wasn't disrespected?

Apparently yes, because since his stunt on the ferry to Duellist Kingdom, he'd been the target for the bowels of every karmic pigeon in the known universe – and they all had horrific accuracy.

His smoothie was puke-inducingly sweet, but he slurped mercilessly at it through a straw. He was in his usual seat, perched on one of the neon pink round stools along the edge of the smoothie bar, just to the left of the mixers with the humanoid spoon mascot on top. Haga wanted to smash the stupid cheerful thing every time he saw it.

"One, um … ooh, I don't know. I'll try a raspberry and mint smoothie, please. I think I have the exact change. Here you go. Thank you."

Haga blinked. Someone had sat down beside him. Nobody ever sat beside him. The regulars here thought he was a crackpot, but he didn't cause any trouble so the proprietors couldn't ban him from coming in. Obviously this customer didn't know his reputation.

Or maybe not.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Me?"

"Yes. I'm certain I know your face." The girl smiled, embarrassed. "I'm sorry; you must think I'm incredibly rude. You seem very familiar, but I'm sure I've never met you before."

"Maybe we went to school together," Haga said morosely. He'd had a bad day and was in no mood to be told once again that he wasn't who he said he was. Even Ryuzaki had deserted him these days, unable to take the sheer desperate depths to which Haga had sunk while trying to claw back some street-cred. Ryuzaki had some harebrained idea that he should start from the bottom again and work his way up, but Haga couldn't stand the thought of going back to being a nobody and _accepting_ that was what he now was.

"No, I'm not from around here. Hey, I know! You were on television. Insector Haga! You're the Japanese Duel Monsters Champion, aren't you?"

Haga gaped. "Uh." Great. Someone finally gave him the recognition he deserves and he did his best impression of a Neanderthal. "Uh, yeah. I am."

"You're the youngest ever Champion, too." She flushed slightly. "I'm not being a rabid fangirl or anything. I just watch a lot of Duel Monsters on TV. My brother plays, you see, and I've been trying to learn all the rules so I know what I'm seeing when I watch him. Plus, it's still a real novelty that I can _watch _television without it being blurry."

Haga didn't understand what she was babbling about, but what he did catch he liked.

"I saw a repeat of your match against Dinosaur Ryuzaki on the Industrial Illusions Channel. You were really good."

He sat straighter and said indignantly, "I still am!"

"I'm sorry." She bowed her head at him. "I just keep being rude to you. I'm sure you didn't even want anyone talking to you in the first place. I was just waiting for my brother to meet me and you looked so lonely … but I was being disrespectful. I'm sorry. I'll leave." She got up to go.

"No!" Haga yelped, and then forced his voice back to a lower pitch. "Uh, no. It's okay. You can stay."

She sat back down.

He shifted uncomfortably, his reserves of smalltalk drier than a desert in a drought. Only Ryuzaki had ever been able to stomach his company for more than five minutes, and girls usually took one look at his glasses and dorky hair and turned the other way. As a child Haga had remedied this by finding the creepiest, crawliest insects he could and putting them down the backs of their dresses, thereby starting his obsession with bugs. Now, however, he was at a loss for what to do next. And the girl kept _smiling_ at him, which was a novelty. Was he supposed to smile back? Should he offer to buy her a smoothie? No, wait, she already had one, and she hadn't touched it yet. What was he supposed to _say_?

"So, uh, you know my name. What's yours?"

Her smile wrinkled her nose a little. Haga wondered why that level of detail ever registered with him. She wasn't a bug or a duellist, after all. "I'm Shizuka Kawai. I'm pleased to meet you, Insector Haga."

"Just … just Haga will do."

"All right." She stuck out her hand. "Then I'm just Shizuka."

Argh! She expected him to _touch_ her? His palms were embarrassingly sweaty. He frowned. He'd never cared about sweaty palms before. Damp fingers were better for picking up winged insects without tearing their delicate gossamer. If anything, they were a _good_ thing, but right now he wanted nothing more than to wipe them off on his pants without it looking like he was committing indecent acts in front of a girl he'd just met.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Haga," she prompted.

"Uh, likewise, I'm sure." Still, he didn't take her hand.

She frowned slightly, and then her expression cleared as though she'd suddenly remembered a piece of good advice. She grabbed his hand and enthusiastically pumped it up and down. Haga yelped, nearly falling out of his seat. His glasses slipped down his nose. For a second he thought she was laughing at him, but then he realised she was giggling in that way some girls did just because they were happy.

He stared at her. Nobody ever giggled like that with him around. He was the social equivalent of a fart in a spacesuit – unwanted, uninvited, and everyone was desperate to get out of there the moment he turned up.

She turned away and took a sip of her smoothie. "This is really good. I've never been to this place before."

"Uh …"

"They must have smoothie bars in Tokyo, but I've never been to one. My mom is usually so overprotective. It was a miracle she let me come to Domino on my own, but as long as my big brother promised to meet me she allowed it. They both mollycoddle me too much. my brother never tells me anything about his life unless I badger him, and even then I have to figure out a lot on my own."

"Uh …"

"Are you all right?" she asked with concern.

Haga boggled. "I'm, uh, fine." He flushed scarlet at her expression – someone actually cared if he was all right? – and hastily turned back to his own smoothie. However, it was empty. He waved for the server to come over, which usually took ages because they liked to pretend he wasn't there. This time, however, Shizuka called and the guy behind the counter came running, boggling just as much when he realised she'd summoned him on Haga's behalf.

"You're with _him_?" the guy asked incredulously. "This guy? Seriously?"

"Sure. And can I have another one of these raspberry and mints, please? They're to die for."

Haga wondered whether he should pinch himself. He had to be dreaming. Nothing this good ever happened to him.

When it arrived, Shizuka pushed his smoothie towards him with a radiant smile.

Maybe, Haga thought, he wasn't _quite_ at the end of his rope just yet.

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_**Fin.**_

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	2. With or Without You

**A/N****:** Because neither Shizuka nor Haga would let me rest until I'd dealt with what happened to their other halves.

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_**With or Without You**_** – U2**

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Dinosaur Ryuzaki was having a bad century.

It went beyond a bad day, a bad week, a bad month or even a bad _year_. After everything that had happened to him – rising in the public eye during the Japanese Duel Monsters Championships, being pipped at the post by Insector Haga, falling into disrepute at Duellist Kingdom and Battle City, falling in with the wrong crowd with Paradias, and then finally falling into complete obscurity – he was now entering the last phase of the falling star: the crash landing.

Emphasis on _crash_.

"Yaaaaargh!"

He hurtled into the bike rack, tucking in his head and legs to protect them. One of the bikes fell on top of him and he struggled to get out from under it, fingers catching painfully in the spokes. His left wrist was molten with agony, but somehow he flung it off and got his feet. He took off down the alley, and thankfully he wasn't followed. He could hear the laughter of his tormentors echoing even more than his own feet or laboured breathing.

"Bastards," he hissed, leaning up against a wall. His wrist burned and he couldn't clench his hand into anything resembling a fist. He shut his eyes, willing himself not to splurge his breakfast over the asphalt – and, inevitably, his sneakers. "Ooourgh …"

"Hey!"

His eyes snapped open. "Not again." He ran, but this time he _was_ followed.

"Wait!"

"Like hell! Leave me alone!"

"I said _wait_!" Whoever it was, he was faster than Ryuzaki, and not above tackling him to the ground. They went down hard, rolling over a couple of times before fetching up against a wall.

Ryuzaki cried out like a wounded animal at the pain in his wrist.

"Aw, shit," said the body on top of him. "If you'd just stopped when I said, I wouldn't have hurt you. I didn't break it, did I?"

The hell? Since when did street punks care enough to say stuff like that? "Mmrrf … not you …" it was over. He was done, and he knew it. Ryuzaki was near-blind with pain and couldn't get up to fight back or flee this time. He curled into a ball in case the bastard was a kicker, cradling his wrist against his chest. It _felt_ broken, not that he was any expert. Anyhow, with the way his luck was running it wouldn't be his only broken bone today.

"Those guys by the bikes did it? Aw, man … here, get up. Or … not. Crap, you're pretty beat up."

"They thought it was funny … just my luck … everyone thinks it's funny to kick guys like me around … Haga would've usually had my back."

"So where is he?"

This guy knew Haga? Unless he was the reason Ryuzaki hadn't seen him lately. Haga hadn't much liked Ryuzaki's idea that they could start over on the Duel Monsters circuit and get back to their former glory that way. It'd be just his luck if he was cursing his friend out for disappearing in a sulk while Haga lay in a hospital bed – or a bluebottle bed in a dumpster. "Fucked off somewhere. Haven't seen him in weeks."

"I know." This was said tightly.

_So you __**are**__ the reason I haven't seen my bud in forever. Bastard. I should kick your ass. If I could breathe enough to do it …_ "So aren't you gonna get in a few kicks of your own?"

"You kidding me? I'm not -"

"Orrugh … thinkI'mgonnabesick-"

"You need to see a doctor. Hang on, I have a phone."

"Good for you." Ryuzaki blinked. Through the pounding in his ears that voice sounded terribly familiar. His mental rolodex flipped a few times without his permission. _Oh no, I didn't just get body slammed by _–

"Hey, I think I need an ambulance."

_Yes I did_.

This just kept getting better and better – abandoned by his so-called friend, beat up by a gang of freaking pickpockets with an attitude problem, and then turned into the princess to Katsuya Jounouchi's knight in shining armour.

Forget bad century, Ryuzaki was having a bad _millennium_.

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End file.
